Somewhere Without Sun
by Stephfunky
Summary: A seventeen year old girl has captured Edward's attention, but it isn't Bella. What would Twilight be like with a completely different leading lady? Find out! AU, OC, Het.


**A.N This is an idea that I simply couldn't get out of my head - what if the girl Edward had met wasn't Bella? What would Twilight be like with a completely different girl? I'm really nervous about this one and don't know how good it really is so please let me know what you think. Should I continue it?**

After witnessing my mother's entire collection of various dating disasters first hand, I have learned all I will ever need to know about people.

I am the product of my mother's first love disaster. It's depressing to think of one's self as the result of a failure, but that's exactly what I am. In my case there isn't even the saving grace of being a happy mistake. I am not a mistake. I am not an accident. I am what happened when the first man my mother ever loved decided he didn't want to wait. I am a wound in my mother's heart, a never healing wound that always hurt. I am the result of near lethal violence buried deep within my mother's ribcage – hidden, mostly, from view. She tries to hide it from everyone, but every time she looks at me her eyes narrow and darken ever so slightly and I can tell. I've always been very good at noticing the details. My mother doesn't hate me, but she does regret me. She regrets me and the circumstances of my birth.

My mother's second and third attempts at love and marriage ended in yelling and violence. Her fourth landed her with aids.

Humans – I have noticed – are nothing but trouble. I noticed this at an early age, and toke the steps to counteract it. I have trained myself to avoid human contact, to shy away from unnecessary interaction at all costs. My nature coldness has discouraged many from 'making nice' with me all my life and I have come to prefer it that way. Emotions and people in general are simply superfluous in my life as I have molded it.

This is why, even with mother sobbing and wailing beside me, I remained impassive just as I had for the past forty minutes. I trained my eyes on the gray sea of seemingly endless highway. Today was sunny as it always was late in the hot summers of Colorado and the hills we passed were brown and barren, providing little in the way of distraction from the sun I so hated. Mom let out another banshee like wail, causing me to flinch, uncharacteristically, towards the strong sun.

"Mihael, please! Try to understand. I love you so much, please stay! I want you to stay!"

I remained silent and still, not even looking at her. To many, this would seem cruel, but my intentions were not mean-spirited. I simply had no experience in this area of life. I had no idea what I was expected to do.

"Please Mihael, he didn't mean to…"

But he still did. He still single handedly ensured the very much so premature death of my mother. And still she stayed with him.

"Stay," she insisted.

"No." I wasn't very decisive and often shunted such choices onto others, but when my mind was made up it stayed as such.

Mom begged all the way to the plane terminal, but with a book in hand I only barely noticed. A woman's voice called over the intercom announcing that my plane was currently boarding. I looked up for the first time in what I knew was one of my mother's most miserable hours to find her staring at me, looking rather like a half drowning poodle. Nearby pedestrians watched in shock, but I paid them no mind as I gathered myself and stood a careful three feet from my mother.

We were so different, I noted with an absent tilt of my head. Never would a person pick us out to be related, let alone mother and daughter. Sam with her short, boyish frame and dark blood colored hair was beautiful without effort. I, on the other hand, was my mother's exact opposite. I was tall-ish with curves that came so suddenly during puberty that even now, several years later, they still seemed terribly awkward to me. My dark hair shone blue in most light and my dark brown eyes were the strongest to be found in my family where as my mother's glasses could pass as binoculars. The only distinguishable similarity between us was our matching snow colored skin – not that mine could be seen beneath all my protective gear.

"Mihael," my mother gave one last attempt. I frowned, turning away while shutting my ears off to her pleas. That masochistic time in my life was over now. My mother had created and irreparable, self-inflicted hole that was now killing her. For the first time in my life I would not continue to stand by her. I couldn't. My feeble and already precariously balanced grip on semi-sanity would not survive such an endeavor. I whispered a good bye, likely my last if I were being truthful with myself, and boarded my plane without a final glance.

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The plane ride to my new home in Forks, Washington was far more brutal then I expected. Half an hour into the first leg of my trip, I finished my book and couldn't gain access to the various others stored away in my carryon in the overhead. This bit of misfortune left me with nothing more than a crappy romantic comedy as entertainment. I nearly missed my connection, laden down as I was by my precious books. The only good thing that came from Seattle was that –due to my late arrival at me gate=- the overhead compartment in my area was already filled to capacity, forcing me to hold my bag of books in my lap.

I finally met up with my new official guardian Pamela – my mother's twin sister – in Port Angeles. Pam was less robust then my mother and had dyed her hair a dark blond color some time ago, but I still felt my heart twinge at the resemblance. Luckily for me, however, all similarities ended at the baser physical appearance. Pam, her hair cut short and wild, was a tomboy who had jumped into police work the very moment she graduated high school. She seemed to get a strange thrill out of alienating men with her job. It was likely one of the main reasons she had jumped at the chance of becoming Forks' police chief.

"Shadow," Aunt Pam greeted with a bright smile as she effortlessly hefted my suitcase filled with books from the luggage carousel.

I offered a slight smile at the use of the only nickname I had ever been gifted with. I had, apparently, followed Pam around like a second shadow in my early youth. Even today, I could still tell why. Pam had the sort of self confident inner strength that no one else in my life ever had. That strength alone was enough to make me love her.

"Hey Aunt Pam," I murmured softly (as was my default mode of speech), tucking a stray curl of hair away.

I lifted my second suitcase from the belt easily – packed as it was by clothes alone. We paused at the airport doors to allow me to pull on a second, thick wool coat before we dragged my thing out to Pam's beaten cruiser. The cases were packed without ceremony into the trunk and we were on our way to my new home, Pam prattling happily all the while.

I could feel my stomach twisting guiltily every time Pam sent me one of her little sideways smiles. Pam adored me, likely many times more then I her, but for the last several years I had kept away because that was what Sam had wanted. I hated myself more and more to bowing to all of Sam's silly little whims with every happy smile sent my way.

"Thank you again Aunt Pam," I finally said, eyes fixed on the passing scenery.

"I'm just glad to have you back," Sam confided quietly, seriously. I felt my heart sink.

Sam had always been more like an irresponsible friend then a mother. For as long as I can remember I've had to follow along behind the red head, acting as a voice of reason and making sure she didn't blow herself up doing something stupid. Despite all my sacrifices and work, Sam still managed to find a way to punch her own ticket.

Pam, however, I had always considered a mother – more so then my own biological one at least. Pam had the natural instinct – she remembered all the important details about me that no one else bothered to. Not as some convoluted way to win me or my affection over, but just in case I needed her.

"So," Pam announced, suddenly and effectively breaking me of my thoughts. "You're all registered for Forks High."

"Joy."

She ignored my sarcasm – forging on headfirst as was her way. "They won't let you skip ahead like we'd hoped but you will be in all AP classes.

I didn't respond - there was more to this I was sure.

"I told them you were allergic to sunflowers."

A smile twisted at my lips as I watched my surroundings grow more and more green.

"I also mentioned your allergy to sunlight…"

An extreme sensitivity was more accurate, but ether way it was the main reason I hated the sun. Anyone would hate something that gave them hives and burns so bad it looked like they'd been set aflame.

"Your low blood pressure and how it'll make you faint if you move too suddenly. Your OCD, your acid reflux, and your allergy at grass."

I felt sorry for whatever school staff member had to suffer through hearing all my various mental and physical ailments laundry listed like that. They must have thought I was a walking time bomb just waiting to break out in a rash, faint, or reorganize their files into alphabetical order according to address.

"Check on all accounts," I confirmed, secretly enjoying the soft sigh of relief that escaped my aunt's lips. It was nice to have someone so openly showing their concern for me.

"The school's a bit away so you'll need something to help you get there…"

"I don't like cars." I interrupted.

Pam's pride at having remembered such an insignificant little factshowed clearly as she answered, "I know, which is why I got you a bike."

"You're too good to me," I confided.

Pam frowned for the first time since I touched down. "I really doubt that Shadow."

I don't. But I wouldn't fight with her over this. If Aunt Pam wanted to adore me I was going to allow her to. I needed the affection. As such, I chose to smile indulgently.

Aunt Pam rolled her eyes. "We'll have to work on that Shadow."

I didn't ask what she meant.

Our car ride lapsed into an awkward silence, which lasted until we pulled up to Aunt Pam's blue colonial. Chained out front was a brand new blue mountain bike.

"Oh Aunt Pam," I whispered, heart dropping as low as it could without leaving my body. She was so… eager. I didn't disserve this.

Pam grinned.

"I'll pay you back." I concluded, looking back at Aunt Pam. She quickly shook her head – dismissing the very idea.

"You already have." Pam answered with a huge grin.

I couldn't help staring at her.

I looked away suddenly, through the haze of a light rain at the bike. "Aunt seems too formal a term."

Pam's hopeful happiness shined rather clearly in her voice as she answered. "Well, no one knows your relation to me."

"And we do have the same last name," I stated slowly. This would end up hurting me, but if it was enough to make Pam happy – to pay her back… "Mom," I tacked on quietly.

Pam squealed and hugged me as much as the stick shift between us would allow. "Come on baby Shadow," Pam called as she finally untangled herself from me and jumped from the cruiser. I followed stiffly as Pam bounced along, pausing to enjoy the feel of the steady rain drops hitting my face before helping Aunt P- my mom to lug my things in.

I was exhausted, more from using long buried emotions then the trip itself. Still, I pulled my suitcases upstairs to the room obviously prepared for me. There was a somewhat outdated computer on a beaten desk in one corner, a twin piled high with blankets against the far wall, and dark curtains blocking out nearly all traces of sunlight. The room smelled of paint and sawdust, making it painfully obvious that both the blood red color of the walls and the floor to ceiling bookshelves flanking the newly opened window were fairly new to the room.

I peeked curiously at the small clock radio on my new bedside table. 4:07. It was still too early for bed, so I decided to use the next few hours to unpack. Besides, the time organizing my books would help me to recharge before tomorrow which promised to be even more exhausting then today. Eight hours with a few hundred people I had never met before as my only company. I was already getting dizzy just thinking about it.

My self imposed cleaning mission rounded up just before eight and I found that – in spite of myself – I very much enjoyed my new room. Both the closet and old dresser next to my computer desk were filled with carefully organized clothes and my new bookshelves were bowing slightly under the weight of my impressive collection (shelved alphabetically by genre then by author). All in all, it was good.

I pulled the empty suitcases downstairs, tucking them away in the storage space under the stairs before hunting down my new mother. She was found, lounging in a loose track suit in the kitchen, nursing a container or microwaveable macaroni and cheese.

"Such a healthy meal officer," I mocked, quickly tossing together a sandwich for my own dinner.

"Shush you, this has major food groups! I've got dairy and grain here."

I rolled my eyes but remained silent as I plopped across from her.

"First day of school tomorrow," Pam broached little over five minutes later.

I grunted darkly, taking a large bite of tomatoes. A soft, contented noise escaped my mouth, making Pam grin. Tomatoes rock.

"The school's just off the highway," Pam added, propping her slippered feet on the table. I glared and she steadfastly ignored me. It seemed I was forever fated to be the mature one. "You can't miss it."

Again I grunted, this time because I knew it would aggravate her.

She glared and I glanced away, pretending not to notice. Ah, the sweet satisfaction of being childish. Pam struck her tongue out at me, expanding my smile.

Pam finished up her dinner, scrapping to retrieve excess cheese off the plastic bowl. Tossing both the bowl and spoon in the sink, Pam left for bed while doing a hectic celebration dance when her bowl landed neatly in the sink. I followed after quickly washing up the dishes.

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Sleep that night came quickly, but was anything but restful. I spent half my time asleep completely terrified by the possibilities that the next day posed. My mind produced several possible outcomes, none of which were pleasant.

Morning in Forks – I think – is far more pleasant then I could have hoped. Here there was no desperate scramble for cover from the sunlight streaming in from the window I had accidentally left open the night before. The hellish fireball was weak enough here that the pain it caused was a mere tingle when compared to that of the Colorado morning sun. I rose, stretching languidly, before wandering off to the bathroom.

Leaving the house to head off to school, I soon discovered another advantage of Forks. Due to my allergy to sunlight, I have to remain more or less completely covered. In warm climates this was a huge problem, but here in what must have been a below freezing Forks morning I almost found myself longing for more covering. Hell was frozen over.

Small town roads like those in Forks are easy to navigate, but the school isn't nearly as unmissable as I was lead to believe the night before. I suppose it is mostly my fault that I missed the turn for it, seeing as I was looking for something similar to the high school I had left behind in Colorado rather than a strip mall esc gathering of buildings. Nonetheless, I found the school and (after circling around a few times) the only bike rack. I wandered towards what I hoped was the main office, steadfastly ignoring the few students already there and staring.

I knew I looked outlandish in my baggy little coat, cinched at the waist and ending at my thighs. My knee high boots were new to this place and my sun proof goggles were strange. The hood on my little coat probably didn't help as it hid all of my face both from the sun's piercing rays and from view. My being clad from head to toe in pitch definitely didn't help. On the whole, I knew I looked like the grim reaper on a snowboarding trip. Given the choice between looking weird and having a minor heart attack though, I preferred weird.

I was, luckily, right about the main office location. This at least meant I was having hints of a good day. The secretary didn't ask who I was before she started thumbing through the files in search of mine and I wasn't surprised.

Her red bun was so tight that it pulled at the spare skin around what was once a pretty face. I couldn't decide which freaked me more – the fact that Mrs. Aigner (as her name plate proclaimed) had invented her own method of getting a cheap face lift or that her files had no recognizable order. Or the likely germ ridden chairs in the little 'waiting center'. I eyed the fraying imitation leather with orange foam peeking and made the mental note not to sit on those chairs.

"Ms. Drew?" Mrs. Aigner called, obviously annoyed with my wandering attention. I turned with a small frown and she offered me a friendly grin in comfort.

"Here's your schedule," she stated, offering me a plain looking white sheet." It was a simple nine block schedule with lunch acting as the fifth, all AP classes, and not a free period to be found – just as I liked it. I was even excused from P.E. – likely due to my aunt and my condition. I would have to pay her back for that.

"All your teachers have been informed of your condition," Mrs. Aigner added, gesturing to my coat as if I hadn't known it was there.

I chose not to answer.

"Please have your teachers sign your schedule then bring it back here at the end of the day."

I couldn't imagine what good that would do, but again said nothing as I tucked the papers away in my plain black bag.

"Have a good first day Ms. Drew."

I nodded my thanks and hightailed it out of there before the urge to clean could overtake me. Most of the other students had apparently arrived while I had marveled at surgery free facial work and every single one seemed to find me incredibly interesting.

I pulled out my schedule, keeping my head down. First off – choir.

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Classes were more or less the same everywhere, so I found nothing interesting in those except the people in them. All of them stared at me and my get up but no one worked up the courage to actually speak to me until the end of my third period – English.

A tall boy with black hair and an acme plagued but still sweet face leaned forward in his seat behind me at the end of class at tap my shoulder.

"Are you Chief Drew's niece Mihael?"

"No," I replied, gathering my things quickly. "I'm her daughter."

"Oh you are? Then why did ya – who is your – uh… need help to your next class?"

I didn't even need to think before I accepted, clearly remembering the twenty minutes before second period wasted walking in circles before I realized that when the teacher I had asked said 'stairs' what he really meant was 'those two little steps over there'.

"Yes please," I muttered causing the boy – I think the teacher called him Eric – to lean forward in order to better hear me.

He grinned – as if some battle had been won – and led me outside.

"So what's your fourth?"

"Calculus in building 6, room D."

Eric bounced slightly – seemingly very eager to please. He held my elbow gently as he stirred me in some direction informing me of my luck of having my fourth in the same building as the cafeteria.

"So – what's with your outfit?" Eric addressed me suddenly. I blinked, abruptly aware again of my tour guide. It was natural for me to completely zone out (as I had been for the past few minutes or so) and cease to be aware of the world around me. "What?"

"I don't mean to be rude," he amended, holding his hands out like he was trying to physically stop the very thought of entering my mind. "It's just a little odd, you know?"

"I'm allergic to sunlight."

"What?"

I turned my lips into a slight smile at our sudden role reversal. "I am allergic to sunlight."

"Oh."

I made a sound of agreement in the back of my throat.

Eric opened the door of building D kindly, stepping in beside me with his eyes glued to my hidden face the entire time.

"So are you albino then?"

We stopped outside my next class, Eric practically jumping with nervous energy.

"No, albinos don't have pigment. I have pigment; it just doesn't like UV rays."

He didn't immediately answer and I didn't wait for him to before entering my classroom.

Math, usually my best class, ended up being my least favorite. Mr. Varner, my teacher, insisted I introduce myself, but I speak so softly that he eventually had to repeat everything I said as I could seem to force myself into speak in anything high enough for the whole room to hear. After the terrible affair of math class, I was more than ready to grab an apple and hide myself away in the library.

These plans were dashed, however, when Eric waved me down. I didn't want to join him or his various tablemates but I also didn't want to face the ramifications if I ignored him. So with dragging feet and my tray of fruit I joined his table, sitting between him and a short girl with curly, dark hair.

"Hi Mihael!" the girl greeted, grinning brightly at me.

"Hello – uh…"

"I'm Jessica," the girl – now identified as Jessica – said a little shortly as she flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"Hello." I greeted.

Jessica smiled tightly before brightening suddenly and introducing me to various others occupying the table. I stored the faces away for reference, not bothering to even try with the names knowing full well that I would never remember them. I was the type to forget names almost as soon as I was told them. Very often, I have conversations with people whose names I haven't the slightest clue about. Whoever this person is, I have no idea but they obviously know me and my name. Such was a frighteningly common thought for me.

I waited until most of the table's attention had shifted away from me before glancing around the busy cafeteria. The whole school, it seemed, had lunch at the same time.

It was at that moment that I saw them.

There were five in total, all sitting at their own otherwise deserted table. The two girls were opposites of each other. One was tall with curves to rival my own and long, wavy blond hair. The other was short and boyish in figure with short, wild black hair. The three boys were also quite different from the next. The smallest of the three was blond and very innocent looking – like the human embodiment of a golden retriever. The largest was very large – bear like really – with cropped dark hair and a rough expression. Drifting in between the two size-wise was the third boy – a copper haired boy who even I would admit was attractive. Even from this distance, all five looked tired and worn down and none of them were looking at each other. As if all five were in their own individual worlds.

Jessica had evidently noticed where my attention had drifted off to because the next thing I knew I felt the solid weight of her body against my back as she placed her head next to mine.

"Those are the Cullens," she gossiped with a clear undertone of awe. At that moment all five stiffened ever so slightly – as if they could hear her all the way from across the room. I said nothing, stiffening my back in what I hoped was a clear hint. Jessica leaned away and we both faced our lunches again.

"Well aren't you going to say _anything_?" she prompted several silent minutes later.

"They seem unique," I pacified.

Jessica snorted, playing with her food. "Look who's talking."

"I have allergies."

"Shouldn't you be in a bubble then?"

"To sunlight."

Jessica blinked slowly, turning to look at me. "I think the Cullens might be too."

"Oh?"

Jessica nodded fervently, happy to have finally captured my attention. "They're never here on sunny days and they're really pale."

"So is everyone else here," I pointed out, biting into my apple. "People like me are usually much paler then that."

"But the sun thing?"

I shrugged, chewing. "Mom does the same sort of thing – so she can enjoy the weather. She's just outdoorsy."

"Yeah," Jessica pouted, turning back to her food. "I guess that kinda makes sense."

"Who knows," I prompted in an attempt to lift my companion's spirits. "Maybe there's a more exciting explanation for all this. Vampires maybe."

Jessica giggled at the very idea, but over her laughter another choke awkwardly.

My curly haired table mate apparently decided she liked me because she continued to chatter to me about the Cullens for the rest of lunch.

It would seem they were the adopted children of Dr. Carlise and Esme Cullen, because rumor was Esme couldn't have children of her own. Alice and Jasper were also apparently a couple, as were Rosalie and Emmet – leaving Edward the odd one out.

I still had no idea which was which, but Jessica didn't explain. I grunted here and there to let her know I was listening but I didn't provide much to the actual conversation. Jessica didn't seem to mind.

She even walked me to my next class, although I think it was likely only because my Biology class was just down the hall from her chemistry.

It took just a few seconds from entering the classroom to notice that the only open seat was next to the copper haired Cullen. I swallowed slightly and turned to the teacher – half hoping he'd sit me down in some invisible seat hidden in the closet. He signed my schedule and sent me to the very seat I knew he would.

Still I walked slowly and sat a bit away from the boy. I had always been intimidated by beauty so it didn't help that me tablemate – whichever Cullen he was – was the most beautiful of them all.

"Hello," the boy greeted tightly. "I'm Edward Cullen."

I nodded my own greeting, mumbling my name in answer. Edward said nothing else to me nor did I to him. I did notice, however, that he seemed very tense the entire class. He – like I – sat on the very far fringe of the desk gripping the edge of the wooden table so tightly that it creaked under his white knuckled grasp.

Edward didn't so much as glance in my direction – not that I could blame him. My protective gear completely hid my face, making looking into my face rather like looking into a black abyss. Even if I weren't wearing my gear, my features hidden beneath were pale and weary. I looked tired I was sure, like a member of the living dead. A zombie or something… It was for that reason that I don't keep mirrors. In all truthfulness I wasn't even sure what I looked like anymore. I hadn't seen my face in nearly eight years. I didn't want to see myself, so young and yet so spent. I didn't want to see the shell those years of chasing after my apparently suicidal birth mother had turned me into.

I made a small noise at the thought of Sam, a slight squeak really. Still, I felt Edward shift closer to me.

"Mihael – "

"I would prefer it if you addressed me by my last name." I intersected shortly.

He fell silent and, for a moment, I thought he had given up on speaking to me.

"Ms. Drew," he finally said, a strange note tinting his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I murmured darkly, turning away from him and his dark eyes.

He reached out, placing his hand gently against my shoulder. The moment we touched a shock ran through my body, like I'd been hit by lightning.

Edward withdrew quickly, sitting further away than before – as far as he could manage while still sitting at the table. I turned back to him, goggle shrouded eyes lock on him.

"Static," I finally muttered and some of the tension bled from Edward's stiff stance. I knew, of course that the shock I felt was much too strong to be simple static. Still, it calmed Edward slightly so I let it pass, filing the experience away for reference.

The moment class was let out Edward left, running much faster than I would have expected him to be capable of.

"Wow, what did you do to him?" a boy asked from behind me. I turned to face him, immediately recognizing the sweet baby faced blond.

"I'm not sure," I answered, packing my things away neatly.

The boy frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I dunno what you could have done. He's usually really nice. Distant, but nice."

"Feeding time," I proposed half hearted and he laughed.

"Yeah, maybe you're right about the whole vampire thing."

"Doubt it."

"True," he replied, smiling causing his name to suddenly resurface in my mind – Mike. "Want help to your next class?"

Nodding, I followed Mike dutifully outside.

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The rest of my classes passed easily, although now that the brave few had taken the plunge and spoken to me it seemed as if the flood gates had opened and all the other students saw it fit to as well.

By the end of the day I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. I quickly found my bike and rode it over to the main office. Walking into the stuffy warmth and digging out my signed schedule that proved I had been a good little girl I froze upon seeing the ginger haired boy with his own stiff back towards me. He sniffed at the air, slowly and deliberately, tightening his grip on the waist high counter that separated him from Mrs. Aigner so much that the poor fake stone cracked.

Did I smell?

I lifted my wrist to me nose and sniffed lightly. No – not that I could tell. Even if I did, surely someone would have mentioned my rank before now?

"Please ma'am," Edward spoke, his voice liquid velvet as it interrupted and invaded my thoughts. "Any other time would do –"

"That's the only spot open," Mrs. Aigner snapped. "It was hard enough finding Ms. Drew a spot in that class. In order to give you a new biology class I would have to rearrange the whole Junior class' schedules."

My breath caught in my throat. Edward was trying to switch out of our science class? Did he – did he really dislike me so much? No! It was arrogant to assume I was his reason for switching, that I had that much of an impact on him. But still…

"I understand," he finally said, soft and defeated. Edward turned towards the doors and me. "Ms. Drew," he acknowledged with a nod and smile before leaving. There I stood, frozen for several seconds.

Did that boy hate me or like me? With his strange, almost bipolar behavior I simply couldn't tell.

Stumbling forward ungracefully, I presented Mrs. Aigner with my schedule. She glanced over it before returning it and offering me a small smile.

"And how was your day Ms. Drew?"

I shrugged gently – too spent to go through the usual decorum I normally upheld. The elderly woman offered me a sympathetic look, assuming my despondency was the result of a bad day.

"Well, better luck tomorrow," she offered in an obvious send off.

Nodding and leaving quickly, I returned to my bike only to find it not quite as I left it. Perched neatly atop the lightly padded seat was a helmet. It was dark and round in shape with a small sticky note affixed to the top. 'Safety first' the note read in elegant, slanted cursive.

I stared in befuddlement at the alien safety device, too confused to truly process it. Eventually I removed the note, placing it – neatly folded- in my pocket. I hooked the chin strap around the apex of the handlebars' apex and walked the bike homeward. Too tired from all the confusion and attention of the day I walked the bike all the way home, my mind strangely blank.


End file.
